


A Starless Night

by violet_scythe



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-09 12:53:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5540798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violet_scythe/pseuds/violet_scythe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick Grayson has been an orphan in Gotham since his parents murder when he was eight. He grew up and became a cop, though being an honest one in a city like Gotham doesn’t bring many friends or favors with it. Until he meets a boy chasing an underwear thief and soon both their worlds intertwine in the most unlikely and horrible of ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bump In The Road

**Author's Note:**

> Here’s a little taste of one of my new stories I’m working on. It’s Dd Batman fanfic, don’t like don’t read and don’t freaking complain to me.
> 
> A Starless Night
> 
> By: violet_scythe
> 
> No, I don’t own the characters, they belong to DC and I justplay with them once in a while.
> 
> Warning: Yaoi ahead with plenty of cussing, bleeding and badthings. You don’t like don’t read! Maybe some underage-MAYBE! I don’t know yet. I haven’t made up my mind.
> 
> This is an alternate reality where Dick was put into fostercare when his parents died and grew up as an orphan in Gotham and became a cop.There is no superhero ‘batman’, but we will see the entire cast.
> 
> A little background:
> 
> Bruce’s parents were murdered, but instead of becoming batman he took over the Underworld of Gotham as Matches Malone and Bruce Wayne is the head of Wayne Industries, playboy, philanthropist, etc. A mask of what he really controls.
> 
> Talia is the daughter of the Demon’s Head-a huge international crime syndicate (no eternal life here folks just good old fashioned homicidal crime rage) She and Bruce had a ‘thing’ for a while and flirted with combining their empires, but in the end that didn’t work out-we’ll get into that later-and Damian was the result.
> 
> Yes, Damian was hidden from his father until he was ten. Yes, he was trained as an assassin like a good crime syndicate grandson and yes, he is very much Damian.
> 
> Jason is going to be Dick’s cop partner with ties to the Al Ghul’s and a street gang called the Red Hood.
> 
> Tim is going to be Bruce’s corporate lawyer that takes ‘care’ of ALL aspects of his life the Wayne Industries and the Underworld.
> 
> Alfred is Alfred because he is just that fucking badass.
> 
> At the end of the day this is a Damian/Dick fic. So if you don’t like that pairing get the fuck out now.
> 
> I HAVE WARNED YOU!

Dick groaned as he rolled his shoulders. Today had been hectic as all hell. The recent gang wars were getting bad and then there was a rumor that the Demon Head was setting it’s sights on Gotham.

He sighed again as he juggled his bagged groceries and scanned the streets around him. It didn’t do to be inattentive in Gotham period, but in this neighborhood especially. This city had been bad when he was younger and he had been put into a group home when his parents were killed falling from their trapeze act.  Now, he looked around at the depleted buildings and the people huddled, heads down, quickly walking from place to place trying not to make eye contact. Teens either grouped on stoops or shadows of allies with their music booming from their third hand loud speakers-now the city was worse. Gangs wore their colors bold as brass during the day and strutted without fear during the night. Which is why he always volunteered for the night shift.

He couldn’t stop the extortion of Haley’s Circus and death of his parents when he was eight, but he swore he would never be that helpless again. He wouldn’t let anyone feel like he felt that night. That’s why he became a cop. Though trying to be an honest cop in a city like Gotham was nigh on impossible and didn’t bring many friends or favors with it.  

“Stop-THEIF!!!” The voice riverbeated off the brick walls of the buildings around him as he turned a corner and almost crashed right into the running perp.

It took milliseconds as he turned, foot flashing out and hooking around the other man’s ankles and dropping him to the ground.

 _Didn’t even drop my bags._ Dick thought smugly as he pressed his foot to the back of the downed man’s neck.  

He frowned as he noticed what was clutched in the robbers hand. _Boxers?_

“You _fucking_ bastard!”

Dick’s head whipped around at the lightly accented voice and blinked twice at what he saw.

A red-faced ten-year-old boy was running toward him dressed in black dress slacks, unlaced red sneakers and a ratty grey hoodie. His skin looked naturally tan and with that foreign accent he had to be mixed of some kind. His black hair was short and spiked at the top almost as if it had been gelled.

“ _That_ ,” the boy snarled, “is my prey.”  
“Wowya, kid, wait a sec.” Dick grounded a little harder on the man that started wiggling beneath him in warning as he positioned himself between the glaring boy stomping toward him and the man beneath him.  
“Get out of my way, plebeian. That piece of trash took of mine and now I shall reap vengeance upon him!”

“Hey, I get it.” Dick smiled as he slowly opened his arms still clutching his bagged groceries in the universal gesture of harmlessness. “He took something from you and you want to bash his face in, but isn’t it just easier to call the cops?”

“Tt.” The boy made the clicking sound as if he thought his brains were beyond mashed and sliding out his ears. “Those morons are all useless imbeciles and more use as target practice than keeping the ‘peace’.”

Dick frowned at the kid before him, “Hey now, I’m one of those so-called imbeciles and I just took care of your thief problem.”

The boy’s eyes narrowed and raked him from head to toe and back again, a sneer growing on his face.

Dick’s frown grew more pronounced as his irritation at the little brat standing in front of him in the smoggy dawn of daylight, standing with his hands on his hips, arrogance dripping off every pore and line of his body. Even with his mismatched clothes he had a bearing of a king-and Dick kind of wanted to slap him in his smug little face.

“How ‘bout this, kiddo,” Dick said scanning the streets around them noticing the small crowd that they were slowly accumulating with their phones out and greedy eyes, not to mention the bastard wriggling beneath his feet, “I get the thief and you get your stuff back. No harm no foul. We both get what we want, a win for the good guys.” He felt his mouth stretch in a parody of a grin.

The boy’s eyes darted around also, snorted and flipped the hood of his hoodie up to shadow his face. “Deal, _officer_.”

Dick ignored the obvious dripping disdain in the boy’s voice at his official title as the boy charged past him, scooped up the boxers that had been clutched in the thief’s hands and sprinted down the street into the pre-dawn light.

The boxers-a panty thief-who stole a _ten-year-old’s_ underwear.

Dick Grayson looked down at the adult struggling under his old running shoes, felt the weight of the bags in his arms and a cruel twitch of his lips. He might be an honest cop, but that didn’t mean he was a pushover. Especially when it came to kids.  

….

DINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDING!!!!!!!!!

“Oh for the love of-” Dick Grayson threw open his apartment door, “What?!”

“Tt. At least you could have the decency to put on clothes before answering your door.”

Dick’s eyes dropped downward to look into the pinched face of a familiar ten-year-old.

The boy was dressed in pressed slacks with a matching jacket, a white shirt, dress shoes and slicked back hair. The only part of his face Dick could see was his frowning mouth beneath his wrap around shades.

So he was only wearing his beat up workout pants. They were perfectly respectable for answering a rude wakeup call. It wasn’t like he was naked.

Dick leaned against the doorframe, arms crossing across his bared chest. “Okay, kid, what are you doing here? _How_ did you know that I live here?”

“ _Do_ you _have_ no manners? When receiving a guest is it not expected to invite said guest inside?”

Dick pinched the bridge of his nose, his brain still foggy from sleep. He could feel a headache coming on already. He sighed and gestured for the boy to come inside.

“Tt.”

He groaned inwardly. Fuck headache hello migraine. How was it possible that a kid could get under his skin with just a sound?

“These are horrible living quarters. I have _closets_ that are bigger than this.” Dick watched the boy pick at his uniform jacket thrown over his couch and turned toward him, eyebrow raised as he closed the door and locked it behind him. “ _Closets_.”  

Dick repressed an eye roll.

He gestured toward the small island in his kitchen/living room, took a seat and pushed out another with his foot.

“Okay, I’m going to completely ignore the fact that you’re like super stalker, dissed my house, my cleaning skills or lack of, your thoughts on my profession, the fact that I don’t even know your name and just ask what you’re doing here.”

The boy looked at the empty seat like it contained biohazard material before he gingerly sat down, his little nose twitching in distaste.

 _Cute._ Dick shook his head. Now where did that thought come from?

“It has come to my attention that I have been remise in my gratitude,” The boy shifted slightly, removing a thick envelope from inside his jacket as he slid it across the island.

Dick just blinked at the brown envelope sitting on his counter like it was a poisonous snake. “Gratitude?”

“Yes. When one person does another a favor the other party shows thanks by giving them a gift of equal value. Is your culture so barbaric that you don’t know this?”

Dick sighed, trying to resist rubbing at his eyes. “Look, kid, you’re inside. Take off the glasses. And second,” he flipped open the top of the envelope to reveal its contents. “you don’t have to bribe me with money as a ‘thank you’. I’m a cop. It’s my job.”

He slid it back toward the young boy sitting across from him, his back ramrod straight, glasses firmly in place as was his scowl.

He could tell by the twitching of the boys arms that he was clutching his hands into fists. “Would you deny me this? Dismiss my pride as if it was nothing more than an inconvenience?”

Dick’s eyes narrowed on the boy’s face. The furrowed brow, drawn eyebrows, the dip of his lips. His small body wrapped in clothes that would probably feed most of the population of Gotham for half a year if not more. He was ten. He was alone. Something was wrong.

“You’re not an inconvenience.” He saw the boy twitch, “But I think what I did deserves more than monetary compensation.”

If it was possible the boy’s back got straighter as he radiated indignation. Dick plowed on before the boy could even open his mouth. “Friends?”

He stuck his hand out toward the boy with a twitch of his lips at the boy’s half open mouth.

“Friends?” He gritted out, completely ignoring the proffered hand and Dick could tell that his eyes were shooting lasers at him behind those dark wrap arounds. “You would give up more than twenty thousand dollars to be,” his throat swallowed as if he couldn’t quite get the sounds out, “ _friends?_ ”

Dick didn’t stop a real smile from sliding onto his face as he grinned at the flabbergasted ten-year-old across from him. “Yep.” He would process the ‘more than twenty thousand dollars’ later. Much later.

“You don’t even _know_ my name.” The boy’s voice rose slightly, his accent slipping out and thickening in his slight distress, “You don’t know what alliances I could bring. You don’t know _anything_ about me-”

Dick cut him off, not letting the twinge of pity for a kid this young thinking of friendships like alliances show. Where in the world did he even get that word? “That’s half the fun. So, what do you say?”

He could almost hear the gears turning under that slicked back hair before a slight nod was given, “It would be advantageous having a- _friend_ -in the police department,” the boy reached for his hand.  

Dick quickly pulled his hand back and tried to ignore the startled frown settling on the boy’s face in front of him and motioned to the glasses. “Friend’s look each other in the eye. Off.”

“ _Tt_. Fine.”

The boy pulled off the wrap arounds and Dick caught himself staring into blue eyes so cold that they reminded him of ice and steal blades. A blue so sharp it could cut right through you and tear off pieces of your heart and keep them as their own.

He felt a sliver of fear slide along his spine. _He’ll be the end of me._

“Friends.” The boy grabbed his slackened hand with a firm calloused grip and let go before Dick could even register the contact.

“As friends we should probably exchange names now. My name is Dick-”

“ _Richard_ John Grayson. Twenty-one years of age. Raised in Haley’s Circus. Parent’s murdered when you were eight and you ended bouncing around boy’s homes and foster care until you were eighteen and granted a full ride Wayne Enterprises scholarship for your outstanding athletic ability. Your grades were adequate, but you decided to become a cop instead.” The boy snorted as the crossed his arms letting him know what he thought of that idea. “How has that been working for you, Grayson?”

Dick cocked an eyebrow and leaned back in his own seat. “You’ve done you’re homework. I’m impressed.”

“Tt. A small, mentally retarded child could do a simple background check.”

Dick could feel the migraine starting to return. They’d have to work on his civil conversation vocabulary. “You can call me Dick.”

“I will not call you the short hand for a man’s penis, Grayson.”

Dick almost choked on air. This kid’s _language_! “What,” He took a deep breath. “What should I call you then?”

The boy assessed him, eyes as cold as ever as he evaluated him and seemed to come to a conclusion. “Damian. My name is Damian.”

…


	2. Fight Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who left messages and kudos for me on this story. I really appreciate it.  
> This chapter took a little longer than the others because I didn't have a lot of inspiration. It didn't quite turn out how I wanted it, but I think it's still pretty good.  
> Stop by and let me know what you think!  
> -Scythe

Dick groaned as he stretched out his abused body, cracking his neck and rubbing at his face as he walked into the Gotham PD bullpen.

“Not bad, Dickie, next time try not to take the perp down with ‘yer ugly mug!” Jason slapped his back with much more force than necessary making him stumble slightly and glare back at his partner.

“You know it would have been easier if you had stopped laughing long enough to help me cuff him.”

Jason gave him a cocky smile as flung out his arms in a shrug, “Where’s the fun in that? And really, when else am I going to see you rolling around on the ground of a sex shop getting whacked with an actual dick?”

Dick rolled his eyes as he made his way toward their shared desk space and the mound of paperwork threatening to make the thing collapse under the weight of it all.

If he hadn’t known it was impossible he would have sworn that they were breeding overnight. Then again this _was_ Gotham-

“I’m gunna go grab some decent coffee. I’ll grab you your heart attack in a cup.” Jason hooked his leather jacket back around his shoulders and sauntered out the way they came, hand waving in a mocking salute.

Dick sighed wearily as he flopped himself into the crooked chair in front of their desk and just quietly closed his eyes for a few moments.

Silence. Peace and quiet. That’s what he needed. Just a few moments-

“Grayson!”

Dick’s eyes snapped open as swiveled his chair around to face the voice that called him. “Yeah, Simmons?”

Simmons was an older cop who was about three years from retirement. He was medium height with a face that would have looked worn on a man of eighty instead of someone in their late forties. He was on the Crime Alley beat during the day shift and judging by the stains on his shirt and the bags under his already droopy eyes he’d pulled a double.

“I got a vic asking for you.” He gestured over his shoulder toward the interrogation rooms and Dick’s eyes narrowed. “Picked him up a couple of hours ago after a disturbance call. Probably a jump or something by the looks of it. Kids should really stay off the street at night.”

Dick quickly ran through the names of all the kids that he’d given his info to as he followed Simmons through the Pen, his exhaustion disappearing in an instant. Some he knew would never call and others he frequently checked on at their assigned homes.

No one came to mind.

“If he’s a vic, why is he kept here?” He asked as they rounded the corner that led toward the interrogation rooms.

Simmons raised a brow, “Don’t get pissy at me, Grayson. When we picked him up the kid was armed with one of those Jap swords. Didn’t take too kindly to us taking it away _or_ being taken in. He wouldn’t say anything when we brought him in-just asked for you, but you’ve been out ‘till now.”

Dick’s anxiety warred with his curiosity until they came to interrogation room five and Dick forgot how to breathe.

Damian sat haughtily as ever in the dented metal chair behind the table stained with questionable fluids.

He wore that ratty gray hoodie that now sported new tears and bloodstains that he hoped didn’t correlate to the massive bruising across his face. The dark purple and greens mixed with yellow sallowed out his dark skin tone into an almost sickly color.

As straight as his back was Dick could see a slight sag to his young shoulders and the darkness to his steal colored eyes.

“Damian!” Dick practically leaped over the table to get to the ten-year-old, hands hovering over his mussed hair, not sure if his touch would be welcomed.

“What the hell, Simmons!” Dick rounded on the other officer as he continued to hover over Damian, “He should be in the god damned infirmary! Not sitting in this-”

“I’m fine, Grayson. Stop your incessant worrying and get me out of here.”

Dick focused back on Damian, not noticing Simmons’ hasty retreat.

He kneeled down next to the kid and looked into his eyes, hands held out in a quiet question.

Damian watched him, one aristocratic brow twitched upward as his mouth twisted. His face would have been funny if not for that bruise that contorted with it.

“Tt.” Damian rolled his eyes and placed his hands in Grayson’s larger ones in defeat.

“What happened?” Dick asked, voice low as he slowly ran his hands over Damian’s fingers and up his arms, checking for bruising, cuts or broken bones.

“Nothing.”

“I wouldn’t call this _nothing_ , Damian.” Dick gritted through his teeth, trying to keep calm as he mentally kept track of all the abrasions on the boy’s body. Some were old. Years old. What the hell had been done to him?

“It’s nothing.”

“Damian!” Dick’s voice was as sharp and quick as a snap of a whip and Damian’s eyes slid from his probing ones.

“Tt. Some pumped up, delusional imbeciles decided to try and mug me. They were taught the error of their ways. It was _nothing_ I couldn’t handle.”

 _And that’s why you look like sliced up sushi._ Dick’s fingers now danced along Damian’s swollen jaw as he tipped it to the side and slowly swept his fingers along Damian’s scalp through his hair.

“Where were your parents? What were you even _doing_ in Crime Alley? I know for a fact you don’t live there.”

Damian snorted, “You don’t know _anything_ , Grayson.” He yanked his head away from Dick’s prying fingers, “Now get me out of here.”

Dick narrowed his eyes, fingers twitching with the itch to continue their examination for injures, “Not until I talk to your parents.”

He stood, not backing down from Damian’s razored gaze. _And make sure the bastards that did this never see the outside of a cell._

“That is not necessary.” Damian’s jaw clenched.

Dick was impassive, “Yes, it is. This is the second-no, third time I’ve seen you unsupervised and now you’re in _my_ precinct and beaten all to hell-”

Damian snorted, unimpressed, “I won-”

“Not the goddamned point, Damian!” His voice echoed off the concrete walls and Dick clenched his hands as he slowly counted to thirty…twice. Ignoring Damian’s slightly widened eyes and stiffened posture as he watched him warily.

He was smart and kept his mouth shut.

“Damian,” He ground out, hands ghosting through his hair, “It doesn’t matter if you won it matters that you got hurt in the first place.” He made direct eye contact, watching the younger man’s face shutter into a bland expression.

He sighed. He recognized a lost battle when he saw one. This was going to get him nowhere. Yelling at him now while he was beaten and hell, practically held prisoner, wasn’t going to get his message through. It was more likely that Damian wouldn’t call for him the next time he was in trouble.

And there would be a next time. He knew it like he knew his last name.

_Live to fight another day-_

“Okay. Fine.” He threw his hands in the air, “This one time you get a pass. Just. This. Once.” He enunciated each word and punctuated each word with a pointed finger in Damian’s direction.

The boy looked slightly bewildered and cross-eyed as he watched the bobbing finger wagging in the air in front of his face.

 _He looks like he wants to bite me._ He hitched his hip against the table and withdrew his notepad, flipping to a blank page, “Now, I heard something about a sword?”

…

Dick found himself down at booking, pen in hand as he looped his name across the dotted line signing out Damian’s possessions from a bored looing rookie behind the bullet proof glass.

He pushed the paperwork back under the bottom half of the glass as the rookie stamped the official seal to the paper and turned to go back to processing where such weapons were kept.

Dick turned and looked down at the boy at his side, his body language had changed once they were out of the interrogation room. He’d flipped his hood up and scrunched his body up low and tight, hands shoved deeply into the pouched pocket on the front of his hoodie, mindless of the bloodstains.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to beat back the headache he felt coming on.

“Here ‘ya go.” The rookie’s voice broke through his mild annoyance and he turned to accept the proffered weapon.

Dick felt like whistling when he saw the sword.

It was beautiful in an understated sort of way. The sheath was black and oiled to a mirrored shine, worn, but well taken care of. The sword hilt was made of some sort of metal that he couldn’t quite make out with the leather wrappings around it. Obviously for better purchase while wielding the weapon.

The weight of it felt heavy and slick in his hands as his fingers wrapped around the shaft of the sword and held it out toward Damian.

Looking at both of them together, the sword seemed too big, too harsh for such a young boy and he was again hit by a sense of wrongness as he let Damian retrieve the blade from his hands, taking the cords tied around the sheath and looping it onto his back with practiced ease.

Unmitigated worry clenched hard in his gut and all he wanted to do was wrap the small boy up in his arms where he knew he would be safe. Keep all the bad things at bay-and then those eyes looked up at him from under the hood. All cold and blue. Something dark slithered into his belly and he _knew_ , as much as he wanted to protect him, this wasn’t a child. Had never been a child. He had seen those eyes on countless people, too old for their years, aged before they even hit their first growth spurt. He recognized them because they’d once been his own.

He was jolted out of his revere when Damian turned and started toward the exit. “Hey, where do you think you’re going?”

Dick snagged the back of Damian’s hoodie and drew him back, ignoring the muttered curse as the boy spun and slapped his hand away.

“I’m going _home_. I suggest you do the same.” He sneered at him, his face twisted into more of a grimace with the colored bruises splotched across his face.

He ignored the implied insult and smiled at the little brat, tangling his fingers into the worn fabric of the hoodie and dragging the boy to his side as he turned them toward the back exit where the officers locked up their cars.

“Why, what a wonderful idea. I’ll give you a ride.” His smile turned into a natural grin as the boy struggled against his grip, feet kicking at his ankles, body squirming as he let out a string of, he was sure, filthy insults in multiple languages.

He was used to corralling young delinquents and much larger thugs that hunted through the Gotham nights, so this stripling of a boy really didn’t stand a chance. Not to mention he probably hadn’t eaten in hours and was bruised from head to toe. Even if the boy had truly wanted to get away Dick already knew he hated making large scenes, especially in public, so what little struggling he was doing now was probably more of a testament to how utterly exhausted he was than any real effort to escape.

Damian elbowed him in the kidney. Hard.

Dick grunted in pain and all his good intensions snapped. The kid wasn’t the only one who’d had a bad day.

He turned on Damian, his teeth bared, “Okay, have it your way.” He seized Damian around the waist and slung him over his shoulder and began to whistle as he let himself through the employee entrance door.

He nodded to a couple of officers coming in, hiding smiles behind their hands as they saw Dick with another one of his ‘strays’.

“Caught a wild one, did you?” The question was hurled good-naturedly from a redheaded woman in a power suit that was being escorted into the precinct by Detectives Bricks and Willson.

“Nah, he’s just being difficult. Needs a nap.” He laughed as he grasped Damian’s thrashing legs and jostled him again over his shoulder, getting a ‘wuff’ from the small boy and felt a twinge of regret. This pose wasn’t comfortable in the best of times and Damian wasn’t exactly in the best shape at the moment.

“Poor baby,” Barbra gave him a flirtatious smile as she walked around him and leaned over to try to get a look at Damian.

Dick tracked her with his eyes. She was Barbra Gordon, the Commissioner, Jim Gordon’s daughter. She was in the DA’s office and already making waves. Even at 26 it was said that she could be running that office in another five years. He was halfway in love with her.

He saw her push at Damian’s hood as she crouched down to get a good look at his face, “Hey there, what’s your name?”

Damian pushed forward, teeth snapping at her fingers.

“Damian!”

Barbra quickly composed herself and gave a tight laugh, “Oh dear, you have your hands full, Dick.”

Bricks and Willson flanked Barbra, their eyes narrowed at the hooded child over his shoulder, noting the sword and blood spattered over the gray hoodie.

Dick’s protective instincts kicked in as he turned, walking backward toward his car, hiding the child the best he could and trying to keep a smile on his face, “He’s not potty trained yet. Maybe next time!”

Barbra gave a smile and a wave as she walked inside; the detectives gave one last, long look and followed her.

Dick let out a breath and made a b-line to his car, ignoring how Damian just flopped over his shoulder like a dead fish.

He fished out his keys from his pocket and unlocked them with a tap of his fingers. His car beeped, lights flashing as he heard the click of the locks disengaging. He opened the passenger side door and flipped Damian from his shoulder and into the beat-up seat.

“Okay, kiddo, safety first.” He ignored his beating pulse and his sense of hypervigilance as he dragged the seat belt over Damian’s shoulder and locked it securely by his hip.

He glanced up at the boy and tried not to shudder at the look of pure murder in his eyes. _Well, I’m not getting a Christmas card this year._

“Where the hell do you think you’re going, wonder boy?”

_Fuck. Jason._

He let out a silent groan as he looked up at Damian, “Don’t move.” Damian’s eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms.

Dick glared, “I mean it, Dami. Stay.”

Damian let out a huff as he pulled his hood even lower over his face and managed to turn his body away from him.

Dick let out a frustrated sigh as he slammed the door and hit the lock button, watching the lights flicker as he turned to confront his angry partner, two coffee cups in his hands.

“Hey, partner, what’s up?”

“Don’t ‘what’s up’ me, Dickie. What the fuck are you doing?” Jason snarled, tipped his head and tried to see over his shoulder. Dick turned his body, leaning a hip on his car to keep Damian from view.

“Me? Nothing. Just headed out. Letting _you_ get stuck with the paperwork for once.” He plastered a smile to his face.

Jason growled, “Nu uh, I know that look. What stray animal have you picked up _this_ time? Crack addicted kid? Runaway? Prostitute?” He narrowed his eyes and glared at him like he could see into his soul, “Abuse?”

Dick just batted his lashes, eyes wide. _Who? Me?_

“God _dammit_ , Dick! How many times have I told you not to get involved?” He gestured wildly with the coffee, ignoring some splashing onto his wrists, “We have child services for stuff like this-”

Dick pushed off the car and toward Jason, “Are you telling me that I should just turn a blind eye? That I shouldn’t care for the people in this city? _My_ city?” He snarled at him, “You of _all_ people should know that child services is worth shit in this city. They’re underfunded, understaffed and the houses-”

“Would you get off preacher mode for once? I’m not saying not to care. I’m just-”

“Just _what_ , Jason?” He shoved a finger into his partner’s chest, backing him up, “Not get involved? Do my job and go home? Wait for retirement? Or yes,” He snorted, throwing his arms up into the air, “leave the kids as fresh fodder for the gangs. How lovely.” Dick moved forward again, back into Jason’s personal space, eyes wild and challenging, anger heating his blood, hands balled into fists ready to take on the world. Or his bull headed partner.

Jason sighed, his nose scrunched up like he was getting a headache, “Jeeze, I get it, alright? Fuck.” He thrust a cup into Dick’s hands and swiped a hand through his white and black hair, “I just don’t want to see you get hurt. You care too much, Dickie, and these kids,” He gave the other man a pained smile, “they break your heart.”

Dick took a deep breath and stepped back from the edge and the overwhelming urge to break his partner’s nose went away. For now. He sighed too and took a large sip of his coffee showing that all was forgiven.

“I can handle myself, Jay.” His lips tipped upward as the sugar hit his system and gave him a well-needed kick, “And this one-this one needs me. ” He gave a glance back at the car, noting that Damian had turned toward them, hands gripping the sheathed sword no longer slung over his back. He couldn’t make out his expression, but could make out the tenseness of his shoulders and the way his mouth pinched into a frown.

He covered a fond smile with another sip of coffee, his chest warming in a way that had nothing to do with the hot liquid sliding down his throat.

He turned back to glance at his partner only to see Jason’s face frozen as he stared at the kid in his car. It was the blankness that set Dick immediately on edge. He only got that way when he shut down, turned off and just lost himself to his darker instincts. It didn’t happen often, but when it did even he feared him a little.

And that look was directed at Damian.

“Jason!” He snapped his fingers in front of his partner’s face, putting his body between him and the car.

Jason blinked a couple of times before focusing on him, his face drawn in worry. He was serious. “Do you know who that is?”

Dick’s brows furrowed, “Yes. He’s a kid that needs my help.”

Jason’s voice was even and low as he grabbed onto Dick’s shoulders, fingers gripping hard enough to leave bruises, “No. No, Dick. You need to drop him back off on whatever corner you found him and leave him there. _Do you understand m_ e? He’s _dangerous_.”

Dick felt his heart speed up, blood thundering in his ears. He couldn’t be hearing this right. He growled and yanked himself out of Jason’s grip. Damian was _a child_. “You will not dictate to me what I can and can not do, Jason.”

He spun away and started toward the driver’s side door.

“Dick, listen-” Jason grabbed at his shoulder.

Dick spun around and pushed Jason backwards and he stumbled, dropping his coffee and it landed with a thunderous splat against the pavement. Splashing dark liquid against Jason’s boots as he grunted, eyes watching Dick like you would a domestic dog that had just bitten you.

“Back _off_ , Jay. I’m not going to debate this with you. I’m taking the kid home and you should go cool your head and _think_ about what you just said. I’ll see you next shift. _If_ you feel like being human.”

Dick turned on his heel and manually unlocked the door. He didn’t want to risk Jason slipping on the other side and yanking the kid from the car. Usually that would be the last thing on his mind. The only other person more protective of kids than him was Jay. Now he had to worry about his partner jumping Damian. That, more than anything, had him on edge.

He quickly locked the doors as he slid into his car and started the engine. Damian was still strapped into his seat, but he had twisted to watch Jason, hands gripping his sword, though it remained sheathed. For the moment.

He backed up, ignoring the way Jason hadn’t moved and was watching them from where he stood as he drove them both out of the precinct and into the streets of Gotham.

…

 

“C’mon, buddy, don’t be shy now.” Dick laughed as he juggled the pizzas in his arms and unlocked his door at the same time.

He shouldered the door open and made way for Damian to scoot past him, his sword safely across his back and no longer clutched tightly in his hands.

Dick wanted to push the hood back and ruffle his fingers through that flustered hair, but he contented himself with a soft smile and shut the door and locked it as he made his way to his kitchen.

“Make yourself at home.” He called as he sat the pizzas down on the counter and started shifting around for some clean plates. He knew he had some somewhere, though he rarely used them himself.

“This is atrocious.”

Dick blinked and tossed a glance back at Damian over his shoulder, “Excuse me?”

Damian’s nose was wrinkled as he swept an arm toward the living room, “Have you even _cleaned_ since I was here last?”

Dick rolled his eyes and went back to looking for the plates. He knew he had some. “I’m not sure what you’re used to, kiddo, but some people don’t have others to look after them. I do what I can when I can. If you don’t like it you could always tell me where you live and I can drive you home.”

The silence was telling.

“Ah ha!” He shouted and pulled two yellowish plates from under the sink. He turned around in triumph holding them aloft in victory, “Found them.”

Damian’s face contorted in disgust, “I am _not_ eating off of those.”

Dick frowned, “I haven’t used them recently,” he said turning them, “they’re clean.”

Damian scoffed and made his way over to where he stood, taking the same seat at the small island that he had when he’d last been there. “You are sorely lacking in basic cleaning principals. I’ll use my hands. At least I know _they’re_ clean.”

Dick shrugged and set the plates in the sink and took the seat opposite of Damian, laying the two pizza boxes open in front of them.

The smell of baked bread, melted cheese mixed with various vegetables and meats made him realize how hungry he actually was. He grabbed the largest slice of double meat lovers pizza and groaned in pleasure as the grease hit his tongue. It was almost orgasmic. Almost.

“You eat like an animal.”

 _A-nd it was ruined_. He swallowed his mouthful of pizza and glared, “Damian,”

The kid had his elbows plopped on the edge of the table, head tilted to the side on one of his fists watching him quizzically.

The kid was watching him like he’d never seen him before, eyes darting from the half eaten slice of pizza back to his mouth like he was trying to figure out a particularly hard math question. A light went off in Dick’s head.

“Have you never had pizza before, Damian?”

Damian’s face flushed under his bruising and he looked away, jaw clenched tightly, “Tt. _Of course_ I’ve had pizza before, Grayson, I’m not some uncultured heathen.”

Dick’s eyebrow rose and he stifled a laugh. Damian’s accent had gotten thicker, a sure sign of his embarrassment. Or a lie.

He turned his slice toward the boy and leaned forward, waving it close to his face, “Aww, Dami, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Here, you can have a bite of mine. It’s yummy I promise.”

Damian glared at him from the corner of his eye, lips tilting in disgust.

 _Seriously, this kid was a hoot._ He pressed on, enjoying the reaction he was getting from Damian, “It’s full of calories, hot grease, and all the other stuff to help little birds like you get big and stron-”

The words died in his throat as Damian turned, grabbed his wrist and swallowed his pizza, white teeth biting deep into the slice. The cheese split open, red sauce welling up like blood as grease coated the boy’s lips as he chewed, swallowed and bit into it again until he got to the crust and slipped that from between Dick’s lax fingers, his tongue darting out with small, quick swipes to pick up any lingering flecks of bread.

Dick couldn’t breathe, much less swallow as he watched the boy devour the slice of pizza, the entire time his eyes never leaving his, dark lashes framing those sharp eyes like the clouds silhouetted the moon. It was like losing his soul.

Damian released the grip on his arm and sat back, licking sauce from his lips he picked up his own slice of pizza, “You’re right, Grayson, this isn’t completely distasteful.”

“Y-yeah,” He cleared his throat and slowly lowered himself back to his side of the table. _What the fuck was that?_ He blinked down at the pizza and back at Damian.

The kid rose one aristocratic brow at him as he chewed on his new slice.

Dick laughed internally at himself. _The kid had been hungry. That was it. Yeah._ He shook himself and gave a quick smile, grabbing a new piece of pizza and shoving it into his mouth, “See, trying new things isn’t so bad, is it?”

Damian hummed non-committally as he chewed.

Dick regaled Damian with stories of his past from between bites of pizza, hands gesturing wildly as he acted out the parts of people and animals. He even got a few smiles between raised eyebrows as Damian watched him as you would with a fascinating bug.

“Then Zitka-” Damian let out a wide yawn, eyes drooping before he shook himself and sat up straighter.

Dick took a quick peek at his watch and winced. 1am. “Yikes, kiddo. Time for a quick shower and then sleep.”

He rounded the island and ushered Damian off his stool and toward the bathroom, “Jump in and I’ll grab you some extra clothes.” _And the med kit_ , “Be careful, the water shifts from always cold to boiling hot. I’ll be right back.”

He left Damian in the bathroom looking blankly at the cheerful cartoon penguins decorating his shower curtain and went to his room.  

Dick flipped on the lights and headed toward his closet, picking up discarded clothes around the floor and stuffing them into the hamper in the corner. He didn’t want to hear Damian complain anymore than he would. He took a quick look at his rumpled blue sheets on his bed and shrugged. He’d changed them last week they should do for the moment.

He turned back to the closet and hummed under his breath.

Damian was small for his age anything of his would just engulf him. Not to mention he was banged up pretty good, so something worn and comfortable against bruised skin.

He squatted down and dug toward the back where he hid his workout clothes and pulled out a blue GPD shirt that had Cop-A-Feel emblazed on the front. He snorted and tossed it back into the pile and rummaged through a couple more. Did he own nothing more than pun shirts? He finally settled on a washed out black T-shirt that said Ask Me About My Ninja. He also grabbed a pair of cotton shorts with pull strings that should make up some of the size difference.

He hesitated a moment before grabbing a pair of boxer briefs. He knew they probably wouldn’t fit the kid, but he also knew what the power of a clean pair of underwear could do. He’d run Damian’s clothes through the washer later, so he’d have them back before he left. The familiar mattered.

He knocked on the bathroom door listening for the telltale sound of water hitting porcelain, “Hey, Dami, I’m coming in and setting some clothes out for you okay?” He pushed the door open keeping his eyes fixed on the sink, “You still alive in there?”

He waited for a moment before he heard a grunt through the falling water and smiled as he headed back out, “See you in five, kid, or I’m coming back in to save you from the water monster.”

“ _Tt_ ,”

He laughed as he closed the door and headed back to his room to slide off his uniform and into his own pajamas.

He removed his gun and extra clips and locked them in his safe at the top of his closet. He’d always hated guns, but he needed to know how to use and carry one on the job and with the kid here there was another reason to be extra careful.

He didn’t usually wear anything to bed other than his boxers and sighed as he pulled on some sweatpants and a Fuck The Cops wife beater.

He really did have too many pun T-shirts. Where did they come from? He knew he didn’t go shopping that much.

He padded back out into the living room and grabbed a med kit from under the kitchen sink and layed out the supplies on the small table by the couch as Damian exited from the bathroom, sword slung over his back.

“Over here, Dami,” He looked up and swallowed. He knew his clothes would be big, but the kid was _swimming_ in them.

His dark hair was damp and fell forward into his face in small little waves. The shirt fell to just above his knees and slipped off a shoulder to reveal darkened skin and strong arms roped with muscle. The shorts were pulled tightly around the narrow waist and knotted as much as they could go; the bottoms seemed to flair out above equally muscled, but scrawny legs.

Then there were the scars.

Some were longer than others, deeper mixed with what looked like burn marks and what might be bullet wounds. They were white and twisted along his dark skin like stains that couldn’t be washed away. The newer bruises and cuts were red and swollen from the hot water and he couldn’t breathe through the knot of furry that gathered in his throat.

Who the fuck would do this? To a kid? His teeth clenched as his nails dug into his palms as he catalogued the marks he could see. Yeah he’d grown up with some twisted shit after he was thrown into Gotham’s Children Services after his parents were murdered, but this. _Shit_.

“-son. Grayson.”

He blinked and looked upward. Damian was standing in front of where he was frozen by the couch. He looked into that face that still held baby fat, bruises turned purple and green and those eyes that were older than any child’s should be.

His rage burned.

Damian watched and blinked down at him, cocking his head to the side and rolled his eyes as he took in the medical supplies on the table, “You are impossible.”

He didn’t know what sound he made, but Damian was looking at him again with an unreadable expression on his face that bordered on mutiny.

“I told you that I am _fine_ , Grayson. All _this_ ,” He waved a careless hand toward the supplies, “isn’t necessary.”

He caught the small fingers in his hand and rubbed the cut knuckles and just looked up into those angry eyes, “Dami, Damian. Please.” _For me. Let me take care of you._

He sighed, slipped his hand from Dick’s as he shucked the sword over his shoulder and leaned it against the couch as he tucked himself into a corner, “Very well. Get on with it.”

He let out a breathless ‘thank you’ and grabbed some alcohol wipes and turned back to the boy slouched in the corner. He raised an eyebrow and the boy huffed and held out his right arm and Dick got to work.

He started on the knuckles and worked up to a particularly nasty cut higher on the boy’s shoulder, brows furrowed as he sucked on his bottom lip. It might need stitches.

It was obvious that Damian’s wounds weren’t life threatening. Most of them were superficial and only some of them would hurt more than a day. He’d be sore, but he looked worse than he was. Either he was really good with that sword or the people who jumped him weren’t aiming to harm only incapacitate. Which still left the question where the fuck were his parents? Or were his parents the ones-?

He felt the anger buzz under his skin as he moved on from the alcohol wipes to laying on the ointment and gauze. He was gentle in handling the limbs, only touching the areas necessary to clean and never lingering longer than needed before going on to the next one.

The injuries he received today might not be the worst in the grand scheme of things, but they highlighted the older abrasions along his skin. It was obvious this kid had been beaten. Hell, if he saw half these wounds on someone older he would even go as far as to say tortured. One thing was for certain, if his parents weren’t the ones doing this then they sure as hell weren’t stopping the one who did and he’d be _damned_ if this kid was going to hurt any more. He’d-

“My father doesn’t agree either.”

Dick’s head whipped upward to watch Damian’s face. He was slightly turned away, eyes narrowed at a darkened corner.

“You’re easy to read, Grayson. Vowing revenge or whatever empty platitudes you think will tide you over at night in my defense.” He didn’t meet his eyes, his mind still far away, “I was raised with my mother. She had me against my grandfather’s wishes and brought me up to be the heir to both my father’s and grandfather’s legacies.” He snorted. “Of course my father didn’t even know about my existence until a year ago and when he learned about my training he was grateful for it, but didn’t enjoy how my mother guaranteed results.”

He looked Dick straight in the eye, his face emotionless, “So you can empty whatever White Knight scenario you have going on in your head. My father may be a harsh man, but he would never condone this,” he waved a hand at himself, “be done to _his_ son. You might want to save your sanctimonious pity for the incompetents who failed.” A cruel smile came out and twisted his lips, “I can guarantee the punishment will be _quite_ severe.”

He didn’t know what to say. For once in his life his mind was blank and he couldn’t entirely comprehend what he was hearing.

“Are you finished?” Damian’s voice was subtle, but it cracked like a whip and Dick blinked and nodded as he quickly packed everything away.

Damian rose from the couch and retrieved his sword as he headed toward the bathroom, “I’ll gather my things and be on my way,”

“Wow wow wowya, now. Where do you think you’re going?” Dick cut Damian off and stood in front of him, hands on hips.

Damian’s mouth pulled lower into a frown, “I’m leaving. You released me from police custody, retrieved my sword, fed me, bandaged me,” His nose wrinkled, “and now it’s time for me to leave. You have my gratitude. Now move.”

“Damian, you’ve been up for how many hours? You’ve been assaulted and probably standing only due to adrenaline. You need to sleep.”

Damian sneered at him, “And you want me to do that here?”

Dick huffed, “Where else? The street? Because if you walk out that door I’m going to either A. take you home or B. follow you to make sure you’re okay and if I do that you’ll either be cold and miserable and drop due to exhaustion or eventually go home and I’ll take great joy in reading your father the riot act. Your choice.”

Damian’s face was thunderous and he looked about ready to use that sword. Dick just smiled at him and rocked on the balls of his feet.

“Fine!” Damian stomped away and Dick called after him.

“The room on the right, kiddo. Be right there to tuck you in.”

His bedroom door slammed shut and he winched. It would be a miracle if it wasn’t splintered.

He turned to the bathroom and smiled again when he saw Damian’s clothes folded neatly on the sink. The red sneakers peaking out from beneath the toilet.

He gathered them up and headed toward the laundry room. The jeans were scuffed and torn a bit at the knees and he whistled when he saw the APO brand. Yep. The kid was loaded. He hoped they didn’t shrink in the washer because that’s where they were going.

Next was a dark pair of boxer briefs and what looked like a dark brown almost tunic with a wrap around the waist. Just by the feel of the fabric he knew it was expensive not to mention it didn’t have a label. He cringed a little when he tossed it into the washer with the rest of them.

He poured in the detergent soap and put the clothes on cycle as he pulled down a plastic bowl and some baking soda. He headed back toward the kitchen and filled it with warm water before setting the gray hoodie into the dish. Hopefully it would pull up some of the bloodstains. He frowned as one of his fingers fell through a slice at the shoulder of the fabric. The thing was pretty cut up. It was almost better if it was thrown away.

He tossed a glance back at his bedroom door and back at the hoodie soaking in his sink. It was old. And well cared for. A precious item. And for a kid like that throwing something like this away would be a betrayal. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. Time to get out the sewing kit. Hopefully he remembered half of what Luda Purtz had taught him when he’d been babysat in wardrobe at Haley’s.

He scrubbed at the hoodie for a good thirty minutes before it was time to switch the loads to the dryer.

He dumped out the brownish water and moved the clothes over and set the timer again. It’d be another hour at least before he’d be able to catch any sleep. He rubbed at his eyes again and yawned. The sewing kit was stashed in his room in the drawer next to his bed.

He quietly tip toed and opened his bedroom door, hoping the hum of the dryer would cover any noise he made.

As he crept closer he could just make out Damian’s sleeping form. His body was as ridged as a board, hands settled at his sides and his sword in the crook of his arm. He looked uncomfortable and Dick couldn’t see anyone resting well like that.

He looked at the end of the bed where the blankets seem to have been thrown and gently pulled up the thin undersheet and settled it up to the sleeping boy’s waist. Damian stirred slightly, his brows furrowing and then quickly smoothing back out.

Dick let out a relieved breath and quickly retrieved the small sewing kit from the beside table and escaped the room trying not to disturb the sleeping boy. Who knows what the little munchkin would get into his head with an hour of sleep under his belt? He’d probably think he was fine enough to go back trapezing through the streets of Gotham to god knows where.

He walked back and settled himself next to the dryer enjoying the low thrum and comforting movement of the machine. He closed his eyes and inhaled the smells around him. It was a mixture of lemon and sun. He’d been lucky enough to find the brand his mother had used when they’d stop through in Gotham at a small discount store in the Narrows. It always reminded him of their small trailer and the constant sounds of the circus. When he just sat here in a half haze of sleep he could pretend that he was back in that small car taking a nap while his father and mother were in the front driving them to their next destination. He could almost hear his mother’s quiet laugh and his father’s deep voice as he became eight again.

It was a good dream.

…

 

“Grayson, “ A small voice hissed as he was roughly shaken awake, “Grayson, get up. I need to go to school.”

“ ’k, I’m up. I’m up…Dami?” Dick blearily looked into the child’s face, “Dami, yer upside down.”

“Tt, you’re an _idiot_.” He shoved him unceremoniously off the couch and he face planted right into the floor and groaned.

“Meanie,” He couldn’t even move. He was so tired. When did he fall asleep again? Could he make it to bed? Nah, he nuzzled the carpet, this was fine.

“Grayson-oh for the love of,” Damian stomped off flinging curses in another language, his tone going deeper and his accent liquid over the foreign words.

It was almost like a lullaby, he yawned.

He yowled as his body flew a few feet into the air as cold water was hurtled on to his head, “Mother fu-Damian!”

Damian stood next to the couch with a wicked looking smirk dancing across his face, “Don’t make me repeat myself, Grayson. Time for school.”

Dick groaned again and hauled himself off the floor ignoring the squishing sounds his carpet made as he crossed to his bedroom. He’d have to shampoo the damned carpet or it would start to smell. He really needed to teach Damian some manners about dumping water on people. Or just manners in general.

He stripped himself of his soaking wet clothes and just grabbed whatever clothes were closest and shoved his feet into his beloved boots. Good for all occasions.

Damian was waiting for him in the kitchen when he emerged. He pointed at the island, “Sit. You need to eat something.”

Damian rolled his eyes at him, “No time. It’s going to take at least fifty minutes to get to school from here. If _someone_ had let me leave last night-”

“And if _someone_ had told me where they lived-” Dick grabbed a plastic bag from one of the cabinets and rushed back to the laundry room where he stuffed Damian’s dry clothes into the bag. He grimaced when he got to the hoodie, but shoved it in anyway and made a pit stop back into his room.

“I’m serious, Grayson, I’ll leave without you. You left your car keys in plain sight.” Damian’s voice echoed into the back room as Dick shuffled through his non-offensive sweatshirts. He grinned when he pulled out a black one with an almost bird-like blue pattern across the chest with large GCPD in bright letters stamped on top.

“Yeah right,” He chortled as he made his way back into the living room and motioned Damian to follow him, “Like you can drive.”

“I know how.”

Dick rolled his eyes. Somehow he didn’t doubt it, “No.”

…

 

He whistled, “Swanky.”

“It was built during the industrial revolution by the founding families. It is not ‘swanky’ it is historical.”

Dick contained his eye roll as they pulled up past the gates of Gotham Academy and in front of the main stairs and Dick got his first real look. The buildings were large and sprawling with the usual Gotham gargoyles perched on their towers overlooking the rolling hills and the enforced gates to keep out the mundanes.

“Will you be okay?”

Damian paused getting out of the car and stared back at Dick for a moment before closing the door, “Of course.”

The window was rolled down so he could still shout, “Damian! You forgot these!”

He could almost see Damian cringe as he turned back around and glared, leaning back into the car.

Dick grinned as he held out the plastic bag with Damian’s clothes in them, “Washed and dried. Hope they still fit.”

Damian pulled out the hoodie that was on top noting the somewhat sloppy stitches and glanced back at Dick who looked a little sheepish.

“I haven’t sewed in a while. Hope it passes muster if not,” he glanced away and back, “You can keep mine.”

Damian snorted as he plucked at the GCPD hoodie that he was wearing.

“Oh, before I forget,” Dick turned toward the back and grabbed the small bag of bagels he’d bought at the small bakery near his house before they’d left and plopped it on top of the plastic bag watching Damian’s face flush in surprise.

“Eat them. They’re good for you.”

Damian growled at him, “Grayson,”

The bell began to ring and they both looked up at the tower. Dick turned back to Damian, “I’m serious. No skipping meals. You’re small enough already. Do you want to be a shrimp forever?”

Damian stood to his full height looking affronted, “I am the optimal height and weight for my body at this age.”

Dick sighed, “You still need to eat and most importantly,” He tapped the brown bag with his fingers, “My card’s in there. If you need me. _For anything_. Call.”

“You are insufferable.”

“Hey, what are friends for?”

Damian didn’t even dignify him with a twitch of his eyes as he turned and disappeared up the steps of the Academy.

Dick didn’t drive away until he was sure Damian was inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to let me know what you think. After all, comments feed the muse.  
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> 
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